


The Name's Tabris

by Maiden_of_Wolves



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/F, F/M, Not Beta Read, Not rated just because it tends to bounce between Mature and Explicit, Self-esteem issues; suicidal thoughts will likely occur or be mentioned, Slight AU because of an additional character, Slow To Update
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-03-30 01:36:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13939764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maiden_of_Wolves/pseuds/Maiden_of_Wolves
Summary: Two sisters share the name Tabris. One is a human that was adopted by Adaia after being abandoned; the other will be the Warden and the Hero of Ferelden.Join them as they navigate the harsh world that is Thedas and try to save it from a Blight. Along the way they make friends, enemies and possibly find the loves of their lives.Their song:Meet Me on the BattlefieldAlso, another note: I subscribe to two head-canons about elves-- that they have prominent canine teeth and that their eyes glow in the dark/they have enhanced night vision. If either of these bother you... well, you might not want to read this story. xD





	1. Chapter 1

“ _Tamaris_!” Idrilla called out, stray auburn hairs fluttering into her vision for a moment as she hurried her pace along dirt paths. She hadn’t seen her sister Naema for hours and it wasn’t like her to stay out past dusk without her. Other than the skittering of some small animals, likely rats, Idrilla heard no response to her call in the empty Alienage streets. Most made it a point to be in by sunset, since city guards tended to be on patrol after that point. Tensions between the ‘knife-ears’ and the human soldiers were always high. They were jailors in every way but title and they knew it. They thought nothing of abusing their positions.

 

Naema and Idrilla had set up an unofficial ‘patrol’ of their own shortly after turning 16. They taught whoever wished to learn how to fight, in honor of their mother. Adaia had been a shining beacon in the alienage for anyone that wanted to be treated with even the barest level of respect. Her death at the hands of the Arl’s men had sent figurative shockwaves through the community, but there were a few who were as infuriated by the display as the sisters themselves were. Those that felt the same were the ones who immediately signed up when Idrilla and Naema suggested they form a proper patrol of their own an emergency meeting that was called shortly after Adaia’s death. Vallendrian, the elder, didn’t care for the idea but allowed its creation to settle those who were infuriated and insulted by the killing.

 

Idrilla called out again, this time she heard several booted feet stomping her way and pressed herself to a nearby wall. The people that rounded the corner, however, did not have shiny plate armor and she relaxed. The well-worn leather was all the elven patrol could afford. “ _Tamaris_ ,” Naema gasped, her amber eyes glittering in the low light. She ran to her sister, embracing Idrilla tightly with one arm. “Look what I was gifted in lieu of payment.” The elf held up a clear glass bottle with light brown liquid shifting about its neck, grip tight with the hand that wasn’t still holding Idrilla almost possessively.

 

Idrilla’s eyes widened, grasping her sister’s olive skinned arm with her lighter, sun-kissed one in excitement. “The highborn whiskey?”

 

Her sister nodded, grinning. Her canine teeth showed proudly in her smile. “Bastards tried to stiff us for some protection work,” she explained. “I convinced ‘em they should pay us but if they were short on **funds** a bottle or two would do.”

 

The redhead rolled her eyes, all but snatching the bottle from her sister’s hands. “Next time you want to go do a job, you need to make sure I’m with you.”

 

“I’m pretty damn good at keepin’ low and knockin’ heads,” Naema chided, watching as Idrilla popped the cork. “Had to be, to keep up with you.”

 

“Well, you have the advantage of being four inches shorter,” Idrilla reminded her sister with a smirk.

 

“You may have the height, but I have all the strength, waif,” Naema replied sharply.

 

They both watched each other for a few moments, then Idrilla took a long swig of the whiskey. Grins split their lips suddenly and Naema slapped her sister’s back before snatching the bottle back.

 

“We’re gonna need to finish that before we get back,” Idrilla said as they started heading back towards their home.

 

Naema waved to the four others that had been with her and offered a nod as they patted their closed fists to their chests in formal farewell for the evening. The sisters were the unofficial leaders of the group, but most of the militia members wouldn’t follow them if they weren’t making official rounds. Idrilla noted that two of the others held flasks of their own so they must have wanted a bit of liquid courage for themselves and that was why they went along.

 

“Father’ll have a fit if he sees us drinking again,” Idrilla said with a quiet sigh.

 

Naema barked out a laugh. “The ol’ man’ll be headin’ to bed by now,” she said, shaking her head. “He’ll get us up at the crack a’ dawn, expectin’ us to have been in at a reasonable hour again.”

 

“He really is in denial about what we do,” Idrilla mused. “But I think mother would have been proud.”

 

“Damn straight she would’ve,” Naema said, nodding furiously. “I just wish that the ol’ man would’ve let us kill the men that murdered her. We all know who they are.”

 

Idrilla shook her head and sighed again, this time much deeper. “Vallendrian’s right, as much as I hate to admit it.” She touched her ears, safely hidden behind her braid wrap. “The fact is that they can get away with it. If we retaliate, we risk a purge.”

 

Naema grunted, clearly gritting her teeth at the idea that not only could she not properly fight back but that she had to simply sit back and let these things happen. “You checked,” she growled, though not angry at her sister.

 

“What?”

 

“Your ears.”

 

“Oh,” Idrilla had to stop herself before she checked again just out of nerves from being caught.

 

Naema chuckled, though she was still tense about their prior topic. “One of these days, we’ll break you of that habit,” she promised. “For now, it’s progress and not perfection.”

 

Idrilla smiled, though half-heartedly, as she looked at her sister. There was only a brief pause before she leaned over and pressed a kiss to her temple. “You’re too good to me, Naema,” she said.

 

Naema rolled her eyes, thankful that the low light hid her light blush. “You need more whiskey,” she muttered, shoving the bottle towards Idrilla. “You’re gettin’ all sentimental.”

 

At that, Idrilla actually laughed. She took the bottle, as instructed, but her smile split into a grin. “You’re sentimental, too, you know,” she reminded her sister.

 

“Not like you,” Naema retorted. “All your fancy talk about forever and loyalty to the grave… just do shit. No need to say it. We know all that stuff, _tamaris_.”

 

Idrilla wiped her mouth after taking a big swig and handed it back to her sister with a chuckle. “Some people like that ‘fancy talk’ quite a bit, you know,” she reminded her sister. “Maybe that’s why that last ‘waif’ you dated is avoiding you now. It’s hard to know your heart, Naema. Might want to start expressing it once in a while if you want to have a real relationship one day.”

 

Naema glared at her sister, frown etched deeply into her mouth and cheek. “Now that was just uncalled for,” she muttered. “Frieda was a nice girl, but we weren’t gonna work out anyway. Saw her chatting up customers at the Pearl months ago. You know I don’t do well with competition.”

 

“Considering that the last time you had a girlfriend it ended because you all but knocked her cousin out when you thought he was hitting on her?”

 

“Hey!” Naema snapped. “He **was** hitting on her, badly by the way, and that’s gross!”

 

Idrilla gave her sister an incredulous look. “We have no ground to stand on there, _tamaris_ ,” she mused.

 

The elf recoiled and Idrilla wasn’t sure if her sister’s look of betrayal was legitimate or for dramatic effect. “That’s different!”

 

“Is it?” the lighter-skinned sister asked, tilting her head with a small smirk. “I could give any bed partner you have **very** handy details—”

 

Naema’s hand slammed down on her sister’s mouth. “Sh-shut up!” The night was not yet dark enough to hide the wildfire blush that quickly heated her cheeks.

 

Idrilla’s chuckle was muffled by her sister’s hand, but it didn’t lessen her amusement. There were lot of things that she tolerated from her sister— boasting, teasing, begging for advice— but she did her best to not allow for hypocrisy. At least not when she knew there was some. Naema had made her look a fool several times over their lives when she’d kept knowledge from her and each time she increased her intent to remain at her side simply to not be left out of the loop.

 

With a heavy sigh, Naema let her hand fall away. She took several long swigs of the whiskey as they walked in sudden silence. “Besides,” Naema finally spoke up. “It’s not like I’ll be able to enjoy that anymore.”

 

Idrilla lost all semblance of gaiety at that, wrapping an arm around her sister’s shoulder. For once, Naema didn’t push her sister’s comforting gesture away or make light of it. “We’ll figure that out,” she said. “I’m sure if we explain it to Nelaros, he’d be open to changing intended.”

 

Naema barked out a pained laugh. “He’s comin’ here to get married. To an elf. That was the arrangement. I doubt he’ll be open to lettin’ you take the life sentence instead.”

 

Idrilla didn’t think it would be so bad, settling down, making a family… but she knew well how Naema felt about it. Cyrion and the girls had had a knock-down drag-out fight about Naema’s sexuality within months of Adaia’s passing. He was not having it, but Idrilla managed to convince him to give her time to calm down. Cyrion immediately dismissed the idea that they could simply switch partners, though he’d tried to be kind about telling Idrilla that she would never be matched.

 

Their father hadn’t spoken about it until he told them a few months ago that he and Vallendrian had made a match for Naema. There was another knock-down drag-out fight, which led to Naema spending several nights at the Pearl as a ‘last hurrah’ as she had called it.

 

Idrilla slipped her arm down and grasped her sister’s hand tightly. “I can be **very** persuasive when I need to be,” she said.

 

Naema smiled at that, but the gesture was half-hearted and small. “That you can,” she sighed, taking another swig. She glanced at the bottle, finding it dwindling. “You want any more of this?” she asked, holding it up so her sister could take it if she wanted.

 

Idrilla shook her head. “You need that a lot more than I do,” she insisted, offering her own small smile.

 

She didn’t need to say anything more. Naema greedily drank down the alcohol and gasped as her mouth finally came off the bottle. “That really is some good shit…”

 

The redheaded sister chuckled. “We’ll taste even better some day,” she said.

 

Her olive-skinned sister snorted. “You and your optimism…”

 

“Come on,” Idrilla encouraged, pulling her sister along by her hand. “Let’s turn in. Tomorrow’s going to be a big day, regardless of what happens.”

 

Naema just groaned, tossing the now empty bottle in a nearby barrel as she reluctantly followed her sister.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to make something perfectly clear before anyone asks: Naema and Idrilla are NOT in love and thus not incestuous. They are simply two women who have comforted and relaxed each other in ways that go beyond massage and nice words.
> 
> If this makes you uncomfortable, you may not want to read further. It will be mentioned and talked about in later chapters.
> 
> Also, "Tamaris" will be explained in a later chapter. ;3


	2. Never a Good Morning

They entered their home without much fuss, but quickly found that Cyrion was still awake and sitting by the low-burning fire.

 

“Still coming home so late…” he noted, taking particular interest in watching Naema as he looked at his daughters. “You’re going to have to give this up soon. Even Adaia spent most of her time here at home.”

 

Naema growled, but otherwise didn’t reply. She’d already said all she wanted to say to her father about the matter and more.

 

Idrilla just looked between the two, reaching out after her sister as she slipped out from her grip. She watched her round the corner and heard her flop unceremoniously into bed. “Father…” she started, turning her attention back to Cyrion. “Do you honestly think that Nelaros—”

 

“He isn’t the one that decides the terms of this agreement and you know that, Idrilla,” Cyrion interrupted her. “The elders are. With the parent’s input.”

 

“You knew about Naema’s wishes. Momma did too, which is why she was against this.”

 

“She also pushed for you to be matched, but we all know how Valendrian responded to **that**.” Cyrion reminded his daughter, sighing heavily. He’d even fought for it, too, seeing as they were kin in everything but blood. Valendrian had simply repeated the notion that no other alienage would take her, nor would they allow another of their number to marry a non-elf. Half elves were not looked kindly upon pretty much anywhere. While he understood the reasons and backed off, even Cyrion could see that Idrilla could have been a great mother and was saddened by the idea that she’d not know the joys of motherhood. “I understand why you’re trying. And that is commendable… but some things just are supposed to be. She’ll learn to like him.”

 

“You really don’t understand, do you?” Idrilla asked, her expression one of pity. “She’ll live miserable and it’s all because you’re being stubborn.”

 

“My wants have little to do with this, da’len. You know that,” her father replied.

 

“You **just** said—”

 

“With **input** from the parents,” Cyrion interrupted to repeat exactly the words he’d used. “The elders keep in contact, know each others populations and general make up. They make these decisions to help keep all of our alienages healthy.”

 

“So my children wouldn’t have been healthy?” Idrilla contented.

 

“They would have been outcasts and you know that.”

 

It wasn’t the first time she’d felt this stabbing pain of betrayal from him, but it hurt worse every time. Idrilla just wanted a **chance** to be in a proper relationship, maybe get married and have kids. Damn the fact that they’d be half elves! It wouldn’t make them sick, she was fairly certain of that. They just be different. Like her. “That doesn’t make it right to shun them,” she muttered.

 

“But it is the way of things,” Cyrion reminded her. He sighed, his expression softening into pity. “Sometimes, no matter how hard you fight, things will not change.”

 

“But you may be the start of it changing,” Idrilla countered. “By pushing against the tide. By hitting against what feels like an immovable wall.”

 

Her father offered a small smile, though the gesture was mirthless. “Adaia so loved that spirit of yours. I hope the world doesn’t see fit to beat it out.”

 

Idrilla felt an equal mix of sadness and betrayal wash over her. He was willing to say that it was a good thing, yet not help her? She remembered the elation she’d felt when she found out he argued with Valendrian about matching her, but it just made for an even sharper drop when she was told it would never happen. It felt like he hadn’t really tried. Just done enough to soothe his own conscious. “At least she actually believed in me instead of spouting platitudes.”

 

They looked at each other for several long moments, each uncertain what to say and feeling as if there would never be a proper resolution to this. The auburn haired woman was the first to look away, turning to head to bed. She rounded the corner and began picking her way up the pegs to get to her coffin of a top bunk. Before she could get far, however, she felt a hand wrap around her ankle. She looked down, green eyes glittering for a moment from the light the fire still gave. “Naema?” she asked quietly, even knowing it had to be her sister.

 

“Stay with me,” Naema whispered, voice cracking as if she’d been crying. It was such a rare thing from the elf nowadays and Idrilla felt her heart ache at the sound.

 

The bed was much too small for two grown women, but Idrilla hopped down and squeezed in behind her sister without mentioning that fact. She adjusted the threadbear blanket as well as she could to cover them, arms and legs wrapped about her sister’s form. “It’ll be okay…” Idrilla murmured.

 

“Will it?” Naema asked in return, her tone hollow. “Like I said before. Damn life sentence.”

 

The redhead chuckled, gripping tighter onto her sister. “I will figure out something. I promise.”

 

Her elven sister adjusted, stopping in the middle of her movement when she felt a familiar hardness near her sister’s chest. “Are you… still wearing that binder?” She quirked a brow as she turned her head.

 

Idrilla blushed, glad that the shadows were likely deep enough to hide it. “...maybe…”

 

“Didn’t I tell you to stop?”

 

“But they don’t make me out as a human on sight now—”

 

“I don’t care!” Naema hissed back. “That thing hurts you to wear, especially as tight as you do. Take it off and leave it off.”

 

It was true. Idrilla knew there were always bruises from the bone edges digging into her skin, but they compressed her breasts to a point that she looked more elven. That was all she ever wanted and it made her fit in better. Being taller than average was one thing, hiding her ears another, but her build? Her chest? That was something she normally had little control over. She’d been shown about binders from a courtesan at the Pearl and wanted one immediately. In the end, she’d had to all but fashion one herself. The custom and crude nature had made it uncomfortable to wear at first, but she’d gotten used to the ache it left in her skin and loved that the guards that were unfamiliar with her no longer instantly made her out for different. “No,” she replied quietly. “I want to—”

 

“Be an elf?” her sister shot back. “Stop, Idrilla. You won’t be one. But that doesn’t make you any less. Just stop hurting yourself to get it.”

 

The reminder made the human twitch. She recalled when she was very young and had been ostracized by other kids, she had tried to take a knife to her ears to cut off the edges and make them pointed. Naema had caught her, bleeding all over the ground in a deserted part of the Alienage, and brought her back to the alienage apothecary to have her patched up. Idrilla checked her ears at the memory, pushing her hair back a little to feel the scars. They weren’t as pronounced as they once were, but they were there. “I’ll stop when this whole mess is settled. Okay?”

 

Naema wasn’t happy with that, but she could tell she wasn’t getting anywhere with her sister so she simply grunted and finished adjusting so she could sleep easier.

 

~*~

 

The next morning came without much fuss. Idrilla had honestly been surprised that Naema hadn’t asked her to comfort her more physically, but she supposed it was time to stop that anyway. It was yet another thing they would likely have to give up when she got married. Idrilla doubted that Nelaros would appreciate his bride being pleasured by her sister, even if it was just to relieve stress. The human slipped away from her sister without waking her and dressed in a simple threadbear tan dress, glad for it being well worn so it was easier to have her binder in place without stressing the fabric much. She fixed her hair in the tiny mirror they had, having to rebraid the circle entirely to be certain it would stay in place today. Idrilla was surprised that their father was already awake and out of the house and decided to go look for him but was met with a pleasant surprise.

 

Shianni was waiting just outside the door, grinning with her hand up like she’d been preparing to knock. “Your sister up yet?” she asked, clearly teasing.

 

“Not yet,” the human answered, not caring that she was opening the door for their cousin to go bother her sister awake. Shianni and Soris had been just as supportive of Idrilla all her life as her sister had. While Soris didn’t join their patrol, Shianni often did and Soris was typically happy to help procure supplies when needed. He’d gotten their second hand armor, after all, and the group was grateful.

 

“Well, we’ll need to fix that, won’t we?” Shianni teased, slipping inside and making her way over to the beds. “Cousin~” she called.

 

Naema groaned in bed and Shianni giggled. “Get up, cousin. It’s your big day. Well, and Soris’s too. But still.”

 

Naema felt around the bed, eyes still closed. “...Idrilla…?” she breathed.

 

“I’m right here, _tamaris_ ,” the human assured her, having followed Shianni back over to the beds. “I will be with you through this whole mess.”

 

Naema opened her eyes, looking at the two upside down from her bunk. “It’s already life sentence day, huh?” she sighed.

 

“At least we’ll have fun at the ceremony,” Shianni said. Both she and Soris knew that Naema didn’t want to be married, much less to a man, but they couldn’t bring themselves to be as outspoken about their lack of support as the sisters or their mother had been. “I offered to take that ‘life sentence’ you know,” she reminded her cousin. “But Valendrian wouldn’t have it.”

 

“You’re too young yet,” Idrilla reminded her, clearly poking fun. “And aren’t quite so much of a firebrand that Valendrian would see you settled to keep the peace.”

 

“I’m grateful for both those things,” Shianni admitted, “but today I hear they’ve even gotten their hands on some ram to roast and a mountain of fresh bread~”

 

Both sisters were surprised by this news. Normally it was difficult to get fresh food in the alienage because traders came to the humans first with their goods, but apparently they’d either gotten around it or found some Dalish to trade with recently. Naema wiped at the corners of her mouth as if she’d been drooling, flipping over and out of bed in one smooth motion. “Well, what’re we waiting for, then?”

 

Idrilla smirked. Food really was their weakness. It was the weakness for both of the sisters, were they honest, but for entirely different foodstuffs. Naema was a fool for anything savory or sweet, while Idrilla was fascinated by anything unique, sharp or sour but enjoyed just about anything. You don’t grow up in close to abject poverty without eating anything you could simply because it was what you had, after all.

 

The trio left the house, enjoying the sunny day the world had decided to grace them with. Or, at least, making the best of a day that Naema had been dreading for months. Soris slipped next to Idrilla after they passed into the square and the human happily ruffled his hair. “So, I’ve heard that you’re to be sentenced today, too,” Naema noted, leaning forward so she could see her other cousin as they walked.

 

“Yeah, well I wouldn’t call it that,” Soris replied, though his sigh spoke otherwise. “Still, at least they supposedly got you a perfect, dreamy match. The descriptions of **my** wife, however…”

 

He paused and Idrilla leaned her head forward to stare into his face. “Oh, do go on, dearest Soris. How has your life wronged you now?”

 

Soris pursed his lips and glared at Idrilla, even though he knew she was teasing. He didn’t complain **that** much… at least, he didn’t think so. “She sounds like a caged mouse.”

 

His company all snickered, exchanging amused glances.

 

“Sounds like a perfect fit!” Naema claimed.

 

“Wh-what? How’d you figure?”

 

“Well,” Shianni jumped in, clearly just as eager as the sisters to get in on the teasing. “You’d be cowed into submission by a woman like us, so you need a mouse to keep you company but not make you look bad.”

 

Soris narrowed his gaze. “I can stand up to you all just fine, thank you very much,” he muttered.

 

“Oh?” Idrilla asked, quirking a brow. “Like how you ‘stood up’ to me when I talked you into getting second hand armor for the patrol?”

 

Soris visibly twitched, but said nothing. That had been a mistake, he knew, but he also knew it hadn’t been the last time he’d made it. Why did Idrilla always make so much sense?

 

“Or how you ‘stood up’ to me as a kid every time we fought, claiming you could beat me just because you were a boy, just to be knocked on your ass every time?” Naema offered.

 

The male in the group gritted his teeth. That one hurt.

 

“I suppose you did stand up to **me** when you defended me from the human’s patrol so they didn’t take my stuff…” Shianni started. The sisters smirks split into grins at that, knowing that was the exact opposite of what happened. “Oh, wait! That was you, needing defending from the patrol. Which I’m in. And I was the one that insisted we get involved. Because I wanted you safe and you couldn’t defend yourself properly.”

 

“And I had Naema teach me after that!” Soris whined. “Come on. I’m not a weakling. Those were just—”

 

“A couple times?” Idrilla interrupted. “How about after that, when Naema kept beating you in combat?”

 

“She **trained** me, of course I couldn’t beat her!”

 

“You couldn’t beat her even after you tried my techniques,” Idrilla reminded him. “And I’ve beaten her at least ten times.”

 

“In your **life** ,” Naema reminded her sister, tone actually a bit testy. She didn’t like being reminded that she could be beaten, even if it was by guile instead of brute strength and thus in her mind it was cheating.

 

The human shrugged, unperturbed by her sister’s figurative hackle-raising.

 

Soris finally just sighed. “Fine, fine… I get the point. I’m a weak man who needs a weaker wife so that he doesn’t look as weak.” It pained him to even describe himself that way, but they were right.

 

Idrilla patted him on the shoulder. “We still love you anyway, Soris.”

 

“Thanks. That’s so kind of you,” he replied, every syllable dripping with sarcasm.

 

The girls chuckled, but left him alone for the moment.

 

Their attention was drawn to a gaggle of women and girls, all greeting two strangers. They were a ways off, but the group knew who they were already. “Your intendeds sure have gained themselves an adoring fan club quickly…” Idrilla mused. Through a break in the group, she caught sight of the man and quirked a brow. He was fairly well built for an elf and sported a beautiful head of blond hair. “Oh, wow. Okay. Nelaros isn’t bad looking. At all.” She turned to look at her sister. “I think I’ll enjoy trying to persuade him…”

 

“Just don’t enjoy yourself **too** much,” Naema warned. “Valendrian sees you still tryin’ to meddle and he might get pissy.”

 

Idrilla waved her off. “I stopped being scared of the elder a long time ago. What could he possibly do to me that would be worse than what I already deal with?”

 

“Exile you from the alienage, for one thing,” Soris chimed in from her left.

 

The human blanched a bit. She opened her mouth to counter but shut it slowly. He was right. And that wouldn’t be pretty. Where would she even go? She’d been outside the Alienage a handful of times and knew there were small towns in Ferelden she could probably settle in without too much trouble, but it was still a daunting prospect. Without her family, Idrilla would feel particularly alone. Still, she wanted to try and help her sister as much as she could.

 

“Might as well meet him,” Shianni suggested, looking at Neama. “Maybe he’ll be open minded and’ll… you know… let you have romances on the side.”

 

Naema huffed, shaking her head. “I don’t wanna have side chicks. I want to find a pretty, smart girl like Idrilla and claim her to the world. Protect her fiercely and please her like no one else could.”

 

Their cousins actually both flushed and looked a bit uncomfortable at just how blunt Naema was being. Soris rubbed at the back of his neck and his blush was far deeper than Shianni’s.

 

“Like **me**?” Idrilla echoed, her tone bordering on incredulous. She checked her ears out of nervous habit. “You need to up your standards, sis.”

 

Naema looked pointedly at her sister, realizing that she’d never actually said what she was thinking in regards to this topic. At least, not all at once, and it would do her sister good to hear it. “You’ve a head for numbers, can write an’ read better than even Momma could and can convince even the most stubborn fool to do the right thing. Human or no, you’re the better of us and you know it. I’d be lucky to have a woman who’s half as good as you.” She glanced to her braids, adding, “and that’s the first check today.”

 

“She **is** right about the numbers thing,” Soris interjected, offering a small smile. “Remember when I was having trouble with the books at the shop? You helped straighten things out before I got in trouble.”

 

“Yeah… I remember,” Idrilla replied. She still wasn’t convinced, but at the same time she didn’t have the heart to say that Naema was wrong. It warmed her heart to hear her be so open with her compliments. It had always been easier for her to say things like that to Idrilla, but even so it was rare.

 

“Well, let me go and chat him up a bit,” Idrilla decided. “Shianni? Care to come along and meet Soris’s blushing bride?”

 

“Can’t wait.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for ending this a bit abruptly. I try and keep these between 8-10 pages at max so it's easier to digest, and I couldn't get through the next bit within that range.
> 
> Also, yes, the order of events will be changed here. xD


	3. A Wild Vaughn Appears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I diverged a fair amount from canon here. It never felt quite real enough and Naema's not going to just take shit. Plus, what's the point of just re-writing bits that everyone already knows?
> 
> The whole rest of this origin story will be very loose in its following of the canon storyline. Just a head's up.

The bride and groom-to-be watched as their family members wandered off to introduce themselves.

 

“To be honest, I don’t even know why they’re making me marry,” Soris sighed. “I mean, I don’t want to be a child forever, but it feels… too soon? I don’t know.”

 

“Because you’re a good match?” Naema offered, her smirk turning into a bit of a grin as her canine tooth showed prominently while she looked at him.

 

“...with that look, I’m not sure if you’re joking or not…”

 

Naema’s grin widened and she gave him a hearty slap on the back. That earned her a quiet and slightly pained  _ oof _ from Soris. “I’m serious! You’re learn’ how to take over a shop. You’re a nice guy and not ugly. I mean, what more does a regular girl want?”

 

“Not ugly? Really? That’s the best you’ve got?”

 

“Yeah, that’s about it.”

 

Soris sighed yet again and reached up to rub at his temples. He loved his cousin, but she was brash at best and downright abrasive at worst. It was a wonder to him that Idrilla hadn’t managed to rub off on her hardly at all over all these years, but it was what it was. As he pulled himself from his thoughts and looked up, he noted a new stranger. “Uh… Naema? Don’t look now, but I think we have ourselves a different sort of visitor…”

 

Despite the request to not look Naema’s eyes immediately followed Soris’ gaze. The human man was wandering about as if lost, but bore two blades at his belt and full armor. That alone was enough to convince her that she couldn’t about to let him go without question. The elf quickly advanced, tunnel vision immediately overcoming her with the possible threat.

 

“Maybe don’t stomp up to him like a soldier—” Soris started, quickly scrambling to catch up and then keep up with his cousin.

 

“Well, maybe  **he** shouldn’t have wandered in here armed,” Naema shot back as she continued her intent walk. “We’re not some show for his amusement. Shems need not be here unless they’re offerin’ a decent trade.”

 

Soris barely held his tongue about her sister being a human, a ‘shem’ as she’d said. It would only make her angrier and increase the possibility of a violent confrontation with this human.

 

The human man seemed very friendly even as Naema made it clear that her intentions were not the same. “Greetings,” he offered, a polite smile at his lips. They were framed rather nicely by a well trimmed black beard. He nodded low for a moment, hand gripped tight in a fist as he offered a formal officer’s greeting “I apologize for intruding. I see this is a day of celebration, but I will not be a distraction.”

 

“Then what are you doing here, shem?” Naema snapped.

 

His expression fell into a calculating stare, previous politeness fading away. Still, he didn’t seem angered. “I’m here on important business which certainly includes not causing any trouble. I’m sure you all have plenty of that as it stands.”

 

“Of that you are correct,” Soris interjected, grasping Naema’s arm tightly to divert her attention for a moment.

 

“You’re bein’ shifty,” Naema growled. “Just what ‘important business’ is this and why are you, a shem, coming into an Alienage in full armor an’ blades at your belt?”

 

He seemed ready to answer, but movement apparently caught his eye and she heard quickly approaching footsteps. For a moment she didn’t turn, but as Soris inhaled sharply, she did. What her eyes showed her wasn’t one she wanted to know. The fact that Valendrian was coming to this human’s aid made Naema growl low in her throat.

 

“I see you have more who would defend this Alienage with their very lives if asked,” the human said, his mood clearly lifted a bit as a small smile split his lips again.

 

“Indeed,” the elder replied, chuckling mirthlessly, “but I would prefer there be less of that and more of those with a diplomatic mind.”

 

“Murderers don’t make deals,” Naema rumbled.

 

“Naema, stop,” Soris muttered, grasping her shoulder. She shrugged him off and turned her head briefly to glare at him.

 

“Well, this man is far from the guards you taunt with that patrol of yours, Naema,” Valendrian noted. He gestured between the human and the two elves. “May I present Duncan. He is head of the Grey Wardens of Ferelden and an old friend.”

 

“What in the maker damned depths is a ‘Grey Warden’?” Naema asked.

 

“Cousin, you really should pick up a book for once in your life,” Soris sighed.

 

She glared at him and Valendrian chuckled, actually amused this time. “The Grey Wardens are warriors of great strength and valor, who fight the Blight and the darkspawn wherever they appear.”

 

“So they’re soldiers that kill Darkspawn,” Naema summarized, her tone almost eerily flat.

 

Duncan actually laughed at that. “Yes. That is our only true charge. We defeat the Blights and kill Darkspawn wherever they may be found.”

 

“Great. Glad you put yourself on the front lines so we don’t get slaughtered by the Darkspawn,” Naema replied, though she was clearly not as enthused as her words implied. “How do you know the elder?”

 

Valendrian appeared to ignore Naema for the time being, turning his full attention to Duncan. “As much as I am glad to see you, old friend, why are you here? It’s a bit of an awkward time, as you can see. We’re preparing for a wedding,” he paused, gesturing to the two elves they’d been talking with. “Two, in fact…”

 

“Ah, I see,” Duncan said, nodding. “Do not worry, I have no intention of disrupting the ceremony. I am here for one last chance at recruiting. I will be leaving for Ostagar after this. The worst has come to pass and we are to face a Blight. King Cailen will head up a force to try and stop this cursed wave before it even begins.”

 

“And I wish him success in his endeavor,” Valendrian noted. “I’d heard the news of the Blight beginning here… but at least you will head the Wardens to try and hold back the tide. I feel better knowing you will defend us.”

 

“I wish I could feel as confident,” Duncan said, offering a sad smile. “The Wardens are a force to be reckoned with, but we are not invincible.”

 

“The tales say otherwise,” Valendrian replied with a chuckle.

 

“And that is why they are  **tales** and not history, my friend.”

 

~*~

 

Idrilla all but sauntered up to the group gathered around the newest additions to the Alienage. “So, you’re the newcomers?” she questioned, shifting her way through the group that had gathered. The other elves eyed her warily for a moment, but dispersed with whispered words that questioned her intent. Idrilla quirked a brow at them but just shrugged and sighed as they left. “I already know your name,” she noted, looking to the male elf. “Nelaros. A strong name and I see it fits your stature.” She offered him a small smile, the compliment and gaze actually had him blushing lightly.

 

Shianni smirked, but quickly forced it away as Idrilla’s head turned. Her adoptive kin really was putting on all the charm. She was looking forward to this show.

 

“And you’re Soris’s intended?” Idrilla inquired, tilting her head slightly as she looked to the unassuming brunette to reinforce the question.

 

“Valora,” she answered the unasked question that usually came after the one that Idrilla had actually asked. “I look forward to meeting Soris. Is he…?”

 

“Oh, he’ll be coming shortly,” Idrilla assured her. “You’ll like him. He’s a kind person and fairly easy on the eyes. Were he not my cousin, I might have pursued him.” She winked at Valora and the elf giggled. 

 

“I’ll have to keep an eye on you, then!” Clearly the woman knew she was teasing her and took it just as lightheartedly.

 

Idrilla smiled, an honest and open grin that surprised even Shianni. This wasn’t entirely an act and it made her cousin’s heart warm. She really was just trying to make the best of things. “We have high hopes for you and him,” she informed her. “I hope you have a sense for numbers, ‘cause he’s got problems with them.”

 

Valora nodded, returning Idrilla’s smile. “I do, actually! Father used to run a small shop for sundries so I’ve got a little bit of everything under my belt.” Her voice was small and timid, but while she talked about her past and her accomplishments it sounded more sure and strong.

 

“Glad to hear it,” the auburn haired human said, nodding. “Soris has been apprenticing and managing a shop here for some years now so you all will have something in common to start off with.”

 

“That’s a relief,” Valora admitted. “I’m sure you all know how it feels to be worried that your marriage might be a bit difficult.”

 

Idrilla looked to Shianni, the two exchanging sly glances. “Actually, we’ve yet to have the pleasure ourselves, but you’re not the first we’ve helped celebrate. So no don’t worry, Valora, we’ll make sure you feel right at home here.”

 

Nelaros looked as if he wanted to say something, but couldn’t bring himself to. The human tilted her head as she looked to him. “Are you alright?”

 

“What?” he asked, clearly caught off guard. “O-oh. Yes. No, I’m fine.” His face lit back up with a light flush.

 

Idrilla offered him another smile. “I actually need to talk to you about a little something, is that okay?”

 

He looked concerned by the question, but nodded. “Certainly.”

 

“I’ll be stealing him away for a bit, Valora,” the auburn haired woman said, her attention back on the mousy brunette for a moment. “Just let Shianni take care of you for the moment, okay?”

 

Valora nodded and Idrilla took a quick glance around to see where the elder was before gently leading Nelaros away. At least it looked like Naema and Soris were going to keep Valendrian busy for a bit. She put aside the questions of why there was an unfamiliar human here, as her little chat with Nelaros was far more important.

 

“So,” she started, tucking them between a pile of crates and a house wall. “Your bride… Naema.” Idrilla’s eloquence earlier was lost for a few moments. She checked her braids above her ears nervously. “She’s… the situation is a bit complicated,” she finally found some kind of words to start with.

 

“Aren’t all arranged marriages ‘complicated’ at first?” Nelaros offered, a small smile at his lips as if he were trying to calm her.

 

“I suppose, but not in this way,” Idrilla informed him. “She… she’s my sister. I know her well, I love her terribly. But she’s being forced into this—”

 

“That’s the nature of these things,” the blond interrupted, the expression on his face seemed to be disappointment, but Idrilla ignored her mind’s questions about why. “But the elders wouldn’t put us together if they didn’t think that we could work.”

 

“They want my sister to calm down, to settle into married life so she’ll stop causing fights with the arl’s men,” she replied back in a rather harsh whisper. “But she won’t. And she’s only ever had girlfriends. She only ever wants women.”

 

The reason for this warning suddenly became clear to Nelaros and his eyes widened to a point that Idrilla feared that they would burst out of his head. “Wh-what? Why would the elders put a girl to be married if she would hate to be with a man? That just seems…”

 

“Cruel,” Idrilla finished for him. “Yes. To both you and her. Like I said, they want her to be corralled. The best way, they apparently figured, was to marry her off.” It made far more sense to the human’s mind for them to have transferred her to another Alienage to be married off, but she supposed no other Alienage wanted as big a troublemaker as Naema was. Idrilla herself likely would have faced the same problem, had she been an elf.

 

“...considering you pulled me aside like this,” Nelaros began, voice nervous but hopeful. “Do you have an alternative? I can’t very well just turn around and go home. The dowry’s already paid and I didn’t come here with enough money to go along with another caravan...”

 

Idrilla perked up. So he was open to going against the elders! This was wonderful. She had hope of a good resolution to all this now. “It would go directly against this ceremony, but… I am willing to offer myself in her place.”

 

The pair stared at each other for a few moments, both lightly blushing. Eventually, it was Nelaros that spoke up. “Why haven’t you married yet, if I may ask?”

 

She sighed, a shuddering sound that showed both her nerves and her sadness at the question. “Because I’m not a suitable match, according to the elders.”

 

“Why?” he pushed. “If earlier was anything to go off of, you’re a kind woman. And if all this is any indication, you are also loyal and clever. And you’re…” he paused, swallowing. “I mean… you’re pretty. So, why? What’s stopping the elders with you if they’re so intent on seeing your sister married off?”

 

Idrilla blushed deeply at his compliments because she knew they were sincere, but the smile she gave him echoed her sadness. “Because I’m…” she started, thinking better of it and simply moving her hand up to hold up her hair over her ear and then tilt her head to make sure he saw it.

 

His gaze followed her hand and widened yet again. “You’re a human…” he said. “Why do you live in an Alienage? I thought all humans hated our kind, or at least found us to be lesser people.”

 

“My parents, or at the very least my mother, abandoned me as a babe,” Idrilla informed him, not even honestly sure why she was telling him. She fiddled with her braid to get things back into place over her ear as she continued. “Adaia, Naema’s mother, found me. Even the Chantry had ignored my cries and she took me in. Elves have always shown themselves to be the better people in my life. I owe her and her family everything. Were there some kind of spell to make me an elf, I would have done anything to get it years ago. But there is not. So here I am. An elf in experience of the world, but human in body.”

 

Nelaros smiled back at her, the expression mirroring his pity. “A difficult position,” he admitted, smile fading from his lips. He was silent for a few moments, the time passing painfully slow for the human, then spoke up again. “I’m not opposed to it,” he finally said. “But I don’t know how we would go against the elders like this. They would know if we… I mean, our children—” The very thought and phrase made him blush and clear his throat nervously.

 

“We’ll figure that out,” Idrilla told him, blushing a bit herself at the idea of creating life with him. “At the very least, please allow Naema to love who she wills. I would be happy to learn to love you in her stead.”

 

“I hope your sister appreciates all you do for her,” Nelaros said. “She’s blessed to have you.”

 

He was so kind. It was almost hard to hear all these wonderful things about her. It had been a few years since she’d last tried to get into a relationship and this interaction brought back bittersweet memories. The merchant’s boy had been tending a stall near the Alienage and she had chatted with him far longer than they should have. They had much in common, an insatiable curiosity and even a penchant for animals to name two. Once they were interrupted by his father, however, she never saw him at the stall again. It was a cycle she should have been used to, but it always left her with another scar on her heart. Idrilla opened her mouth to say something, but was rudely interrupted by someone grasping her arm and jerking her backwards.

 

“Oi!” a man yelled, clearly addressing someone else as he dragged Idrilla out from their hideaway by the crates. She tried to dig her heels in and wrestle herself from his grip but he simply grasped her with his other hand and held tighter. “Found another one.” The human man that had apparently either snuck in or forced his way into the Alienage grinned at her. As he wore fancy clothes and not armor, Idrilla immediately noted that he wasn’t a soldier. Thankfully he wasn’t armed either, which gave her a way to easily resist. She promptly twisted in his grip so she was facing him, glared and stomped on his foot. Clearly he hadn’t been expecting the resistance because he howled. “Bloody—” he started, releasing his grip.

 

Idrilla ran back to Nelaros to grasp his wrist and lead him away. “Come on, we need to—”

 

“Fiesty one, eh?” Another human blocked her way just as she thought she’d gotten them clear of the other male. He was at least a head taller than her and took full advantage of the height difference by looming over her. His green eyes bored into hers, brown hair encircling his head in a way that only enhanced the intimidation. The grin he had on his lips, framed by a well-trimmed beard and mustache, made her twitch. This was a hunt, she didn’t need to be told that much. Nobles often took advantage of lone elves, but it was rare that they would do so in broad daylight. The faint scent of brandy on his lips, though, made it clear why this one wasn’t as careful. “I would quite enjoy making you beg…” he all but purred, a hand coming up to grasp her cheek.

 

Idrilla growled under her breath, hand coming up and peeling his off her face before shoving it away. “Don’t you dare touch me,” she snapped at him. He didn’t seem bothered, only chuckling to himself at the move. She backed up, gently pulling on Nelaros’ wrist to get him to fall in line behind her. “I don’t care what you all think you can do, but you can’t just waltz in here. This is our home.”

 

“And my family owns the city, so your home is also mine,” he sneered. “Care to open up your doors to me  **now** ?” Clearly it was a rhetorical question as he began advancing on her again. Idrilla’s face paled and the human man’s grin only split wider at the visual cue. This was the Arl’s son. They’d been able to defend themselves against his men because they were technically acting without sanction so the family wouldn’t stand up for them… but the son? This was an entirely different matter.

 

“No,” came a growl from his right. Before Idrilla could explain the situation, Naema had launched her fist at him, knuckles connecting with his cheekbone and forcing his body to spin against the sheer strength of the attack. He landed on the ground after a sickening crack echoed through the area. Aside from shallow lifting of his chest, he did not appear to move once he landed.

 

“Are you  **mad** ?” the shorter human male spoke up, his tightly trimmed beard jerking about as he spoke. “You just punched Vaughn Kendells, the Arl’s son!”

 

As if the reminder made her that much more emboldened, Naema spat on the nobleman’s still form but said nothing. His father’s men had killed their mother; merely as an act of spiteful revenge after she stood up to them for the umpteenth time. Their lives meant nothing to these men and Naema had no mercy nor pity to offer them in return.

 

Another male human that Idrilla had not seen before came walking up, eyes aflame with anger. “You damned knife-eared bitch! You’ll get what’s comin’ to ya. And you’ll beg for mercy.” His thin red mustache wriggled slightly with the words.

 

Naema was nearly a head shorter than this new male, yet she thought nothing of getting up in his face. “What, from  **you** ? Your soft shem ass couldn’t even lift the shield I use for real fights. Take your little friend and that damn noble welp and get out. You’re. Not. Welcome. Here.” She ground out every syllable of the last four words as if they were too stupid to understand otherwise.

 

Even Idrilla was taken aback by all this. Naema was always hard to control when they were in situations like this, but she was going so far beyond the pale this time that Idrilla didn’t think she could possibly soothe this. She released her grip on Nelaros’ wrist but put her hand out, silently advising him to stand back. It felt like there would be a fight any minute and Idrilla didn’t want him getting involved. The sisters weren’t armed at that moment, but they were dangerous...and now possibly in danger.

 

The fuming human spat in Naema’s face and Idrilla was so certain that she was going to deck him just like she had the noble that had touched her. Instead, she just wiped it away and continued glaring at him. Seeing as she wasn’t either intimidated or upset by the insulting gesture, the human male gritted his teeth and finally turned away. “You will regret ever being born when we’re done with you, wretch,” he growled. “Your kind apparently needs a new lesson in respecting your betters.”

 

Despite the threat, he gestured to the other human man and together they dragged the nobleman up to his feet. The knocked out leader’s head lolled to the side, but he was clearly still breathing as he groaned out in pain. They wrapped his arms about each of their shoulders and pulled him to his feet. He didn’t seem to be able to walk or hold himself up as they shuffled along and his feel slid along the ground.

 

“Well that was… interesting…” Nelaros noted, watching with a pallid face as the group of humans wandered out of sight.

 

Idrilla slowly let her hand down as spoke, though she was uncertain if it was really safe or not.

 

“It’s usually not  **that** bad,” Soris tried to cover, coming up and glaring daggers at Naema. “Looks like the arl’s son started drinking far earlier in the day than usual. He’s harassed us before, a lot of times, but…”

 

“No, he’s hunted our women before too,” Naema snapped, only shifting from her equally dangerous glare at Soris to inspect her knuckles. There was some bruising already coming up, but it didn’t look like the skin was broken so she wasn’t about to bother with it. She returned her attention to her meek cousin. “Stop trying to sweep that bloody shit under the damned rug.”

 

Idrilla smiled sadly as Valora paled a little beside Soris. “That’s why Naema and I started the patrol we have. Just to remind the humans that we’re not to be taken so lightly. It’s really helped with the abuses. They think more of the ‘rabbits’ when they’re armed with sharp swords and bows.”

 

“It certainly would give them something to think about,” Nelaros admitted with a small nod. “But I’m glad to hear that this type of thing won’t be a daily occurance…”

 

_ I certainly hope not _ , Idrilla thought to herself, but she couldn’t open her mouth to assure the newcomers that it wouldn’t be so. There was no way to do so without lying, in her estimation. She just hoped that the backlash from this particular incident would take some time to get back to them. After all, today was supposed to at least be fun. With food and dancing… as the group gathered themselves, the memory still hung in the air.

 

“Oh, the harassment might be,” Shianni offered, clearly trying to joke about the subject as she put a hand to Valora’s shoulder with a grin. “But you get used to it. Makes us tough, so that’s good. As long as us elves stick together, we’ll be alright.”

 

“What did you two do now?” Valendrian came walking up to the group with a purpose.

  
Idrilla’s throat tightened. They’d done the right thing. They’d only defended themselves, she kept telling herself. She needed to speak before Naema did, but the words were stuck in her throat.   



	4. Actions Have Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I always felt like the scene where Vaughn takes you and your bridal party away was far less dramatic than it should have been, so here is my take. Plus, Naema's not about to let a spoiled rotten noble shem invade her life without a fight. >:[

 

“Set some humans straight,” Naema replied easily, though she turned her bruised fist towards her so it wouldn’t be obvious to the elder.

 

“With violence, I assume, since you’re involved,” the elder sighed, bringing up a hand to rub at his temples. “Of all the days for you to pick fights—”

 

“We don’t pick the fights,” Naema snapped. “ **They** do. You know that, elder. This time some human brat thought he could walk in here and take Idrilla and whoever else his lackies wanted. I knocked his ass to the ground, where it belonged.”

 

The rest of the group looked terribly uncomfortable, but didn’t deny or elaborate on Naema’s explanation of events. Both Shianni and Soris seemed intent on avoiding the elder’s eyes as his gaze flickered about the group.

 

Valendrian eventually seemed to take the silence as confirmation and sighed. “Alright,” he paused and looked pointely at Idrilla. “You had better be part of the group that meets the guards that come here looking for your sister, Idrilla.”

 

“Of course, elder,” she responded, bowing her head. 

 

He looked at the others in their own turns as if to silently warn or admonish them before retreating towards the preparations. There was much still to be done and he couldn’t be gone long, especially since he couldn’t punish the instigator. At least not today.

 

Naema leaned into her sister and muttered, “so much for your whole ‘I don’t fear the elder’ speech earlier…” Had the taunt been under any other circumstances, she would have been smirking. As it stood, there was nothing amusing about their situation.

 

“That — that’s not fair!” Idrilla hissed back. It took her a moment to compose herself again, but once she did she had the perfect segway. She took another glance towards the elder to make sure he was far away and busy before actually speaking. “You should be going easy on me. Nelaros is willing to work with us, though you’ll have to stand up there and look pretty as his bride for the time being.”

 

Naema’s brows shot up, surprise and relief flooding her features. “Really?”

 

The human nodded, stress easing a little with the happiness her sister’s relief provided her. “We’ll have to iron out the details, but he’s willing to work with us. As helpful as I could have hoped.”

 

“My ears are burning~” Nelaros mused, tilting his head as he offered a smile and approached the sisters. Shianni was already chatting up Valora and Soris, making the latter blush and keeping them both busy. “I hope you aren’t already poisoning your sister against me.” His light tone and facial expression made it clear that he was just teasing them both. Clearly he had calmed enough to joke and that was a good sign.

 

“Quite the opposite, actually,” Idrila replied, chuckling. “I was just letting her know how open you were.”

 

Naema grinned at him, smacking his back. The male reacted to the playful gesture much as Soris had but was apparently shocked by her strength and stared at her as she spoke. “Yeah! Thanks for that.”

 

He bowed his head for a moment before replying. “Yes, well, your sister—” he paused, as if he had to stop himself from saying something else before continuing on. “One would be a fool to go against her plans.”

 

“You have no idea, Nel,” Naema replied, sighing rather dramatically. “You’ll get used to her bein’ right. It’s frustratin’, but it’s easier to just accept it.”

 

The blond laughed softly, bringing a smile to Idrilla’s lips as well. The drama that had ensued only a few minutes earlier was slipping away from them all. They would make this into a good day, despite human nobles trying to take any shred of happiness they had away from them.

 

“C’mon, cousin, we need to get you properly dressed,” Shianni said, appearing beside and reaching a hand out to Naema as jerking her head back towards their homes to reinforce her reminder. 

 

The warrior groaned, looking to Idrilla before rolling her eyes and taking Shianni’s hand. “Let’s get that part over with, then…”

 

“Want me to come with?” the human asked, causing the two to pause.

 

“I think I can handle shoving myself in a dress,” Naema replied. Shianni snickered, but refrained from actually commenting.

 

Idrilla quirked a brow at the images that brought to her mind. “And your hair?”

 

“What, you wanna cut it more?”

 

“Just to make it even!”

 

“Nah.”

 

“Fine,” Idrilla huffed. She wasn’t actually angry with Naema, but she did want her to play this part as best as she could to make things easier for all parties involved.“Be that way. But if the elder gets after me about that too, I’m gonna tell him that you insisted I leave it alone.”

 

Naema barked out a laugh and Shianni took that as the cue to finally drag her away. 

 

“She’s… impressive,” Nelaros said as his gaze followed the pair. It was as if he could not think of another word to use when it came to Naema.

 

“In more ways than the obvious,” Idrilla replied with a fond smile. After a moment she reached out for his hand but thought better of it and simply motioned for him to follow her. “C’mon. Since Soris is all ready, we can just enjoy the spread they’ve got set up. Shianni said they had fresh ram!”

 

The small group wandered over to the benches and ramshackle tables that had been gathered in the dirt paths of the Alienage. The groom and bride-to-be were greeted with new rounds of already partially drunk enthusiasm. It was rare that they had an overabundance of food, much less enough alcohol to get drunk, but when they did there were plenty of people who took full advantage.

 

Idrilla saw Valendrian off on his own with the strange human she’d caught sight of earlier but as they seemed to be talking and even occasionally laughing she thought little of his continued presence. She enjoyed the bits of dancing and song that her kin engaged in, though they were stopped before they could finish the songs because the ceremony had yet to begin. These celebrations were supposed to be  **after** that, they were reminded. Soris and Idrilla exchanged looks about the irony of them being chastised considering there were others already partaking heavily but they didn’t argue. They supposed they had to earn it by completing the proper adult rituals first.

 

Cyrion came back with Naema and Shianni, looking proud of his daughter for the first time in a while. Idrilla was glad to see him happy, but was already worried about how this all would turn out. She’d convinced Nelaros, at least for the time being, to not put Naema in a bad spot privately… but their father wasn’t part of the arrangement. While Naema was to be considered an adult after she was married, it didn’t mean that Cyrion couldn’t make their arrangement difficult if he disapproved. Idrilla’s mind swam with the possible problems.

 

“ _ Tamaris _ ?” the familiar and dear word cut through her thoughts. Naema was standing in front of her, head tilted as she stared into her eyes. “What’s goin’ on with you?”

 

“Sorry. I was just…” she paused, reaching up her hand to check her braid and ear. 

 

“Second one,” Naema chided.

 

“Right,” Idrilla sighed, quickly putting her hand down. “I was just thinking.”

 

“... about what?” a wild brow raised on her olive skin. “We’ve got things set. Stop botherin’ yourself with ‘well this is possible’ and ‘what if things turn out this way?’. You can’t know and dwellin’ on it isn’t gonna help.”

 

“Easy for you to say,” Idrilla scoffed. “My planning ahead has saved our asses—”

 

“Language,” Cyrion huffed, approaching his adoptive daughter with an amused smile despite his words. “At least for today and especially in public. Just… be normal.”

 

The sisters looked pointedly at each other and snickered.

 

At first their father could only respond with a defeated sigh. “ **Pretend** to be normal, then?” he offered after a moment.

 

“We’ll do our best,” Idrilla informed him, offering a smile and gently gripping his shoulder for only a moment before removing her touch.

 

“I suppose that is the best I can ask for.” His gaze shifted and he noted the two unfamiliar faces. “The blond is Nelaros, I assume?” he asked, glancing to Idrilla for a moment.

 

“Yes.”

 

“He looks to be a fine man,” Cyrion commented, attention resting pointedly on Naema. “Valendrian picked well for you.”

 

Naema scoffed, but did not actually try and argue or refute her father. She soothed herself with reminders of Idrilla’s hidden bargain. She wouldn’t have to live a lie. Her sister would protect her, just as she’d always had her back. For the moment she barely bit back her immediate thought of,  _ plenty good enough...for a woman that wants a man. _

 

“I hope you haven’t offended or insulted the poor boy already,” he continued, clearly ignoring his biological daughter’s feelings on the matter.

 

“No—” Naema started, her patience already wearing thin at her father’s prodding.

 

Idrilla stepped in, knowing that she’d need to side track things before a yelling match broke out again. “Interesting that you’d call him a ‘fine man’ and then immediately turn around and call him a ‘poor boy’. He’s grown, father. He can take care of himself, even against Naema. Leave it be.”

 

“I suppose.” Despite the acknowledgement, their father did not sound convinced.

 

He had little time to dwell on it, as Valendrian called to the group from a raised platform that had previously been blocked by several workers. “We still have the proper ceremony to attend to,” he reminded them all with a knowing smile on his lips. “Naema, Soris…” he gestured to the two as he spoke. 

 

Idrilla offered her sister a smile and pushed her forward by the small of her back. Naema groaned, earning the glare of the elder but an amused chuckle from Nelaros. Though Idrilla doubted the younger man would have been in such good spirits about all this had they not spoken earlier.

 

As it wasn’t her ceremony, Idrilla made sure to stand at the side of the platform but still within Naema’s line of sight just in case she got nervous. Her sister almost never got nervous, but if it were going to be any day it would probably be something like this: starting a new chapter weather she wanted to or not. Thankfully she was not alone. Shianni stood by her side and flashed her a smile when she looked over. Despite the uncertainty about the details, everyone was excited for the ceremony and the days to come and it gave Idrilla some peace.

 

Naema, meanwhile, just wanted to get all this nonsense over with and get her hands on the alcohol. Maybe, if she was lucky, Nelaros and Idrilla would sneak off somewhere and she’d be able to do the same. Even if she couldn’t, she was determined to have some fun after this Chantry lady was done with her fancy words and spiritual mumbo-jumbo. The Maker owed her that much for making her live a lie in public for who knows how long.

 

The elder started, as per usual, with an introductory monologue to remind everyone of why they were here and what was actually important. The Chantry mother stood idly by with a placid smile on her lips as he spoke. “Friends and family, today we celebrate not only these joinings, but also our bonds of kin and kind. We are a free people, but that was not always so.”

 

Idrilla caught her sister’s gaze and they both rolled their eyes.  _ Free _ , Idrilla thought.  _ You mean free to be hunted for sport. Treated like shit. _ Despite her disagreement, she knew that the elder had to keep up appearances and be diplomatic whenever possible. It was the only way to ensure that they looked at least somewhat loyal to the laws of Denerim. Regardless of how those laws did nothing to protect their liberties.

 

“Andraste, the Maker’s prophet, freed us from the bonds of slavery.” There were a few small ‘here, here’s from the crowd in agreement. The sisters knew that most were content with thinking the Maker protected them, when in reality many had been protected by their efforts. It was a thorn that would be ever present.

 

“As our community grows,” the elder continued, though Idrilla’s brow quirked.  _ Already insinuating there will be children, elder? _ She supposed he could have just been talking about the fact that both Valora and Nelaros were from different alienages so they were ‘new blood’ here in a sense… but it left a weight on her mind that she didn’t appreciate having put there already.  

 

“Remember that our strength lies in commitment to tradition and to each other.”  _ As long as that ‘tradition’ doesn’t include continuing to just allow humans to step all over our rights… _ Idrilla chided in her head. Normally, she wouldn’t have even paid much attention to the speech but today she was part of the ceremony so her mind couldn’t help but analyze everything he was saying.

 

As the elder turned his attention to the couples to be wed, the Chantry mother stepped forth. “Thank you, Valendrian,” she said, bowing her head to him for a moment to reinforce the point. “Now, let us begin.”

 

Idrilla’s lips twitched as she watched Soris shift uncomfortably from foot to foot. He always was so nervous about messing up but it was ten times worse when he was the center of attention. Naema, she noticed with no amount of surprise, simply looked bored out of her mind. When the sisters locked gazes again, she smiled and offered a quick wink. That drew a small smile from Naema’s lips, but even she knew better than to throw back the wink.

 

“In the name of the Maker, who brought us this world, and in whose name we say the Chant of Light, I—”

 

Soris held up a hand and waved it a bit to get the mother’s attention. Once he had it, he pointed it behind her. Naema was already gritting her teeth and scrunched down a bit, ready for a fight. Idrilla was dismayed at what she saw when she turned her attention to a group that was rounding the corner. She’d heard the footsteps, but had only thought that it was more alienage folk who had simply forgotten the time of the ceremony. The murmurs that rippled through the gathered crowd; parents grasping at their children and husbands pushing their wives behind them made it clear this was trouble.

 

What greeted her gaze was a silently furious Vaughn Kendells and her gut wrenched. He had put on some kind of make up to his eye, but knowing that Naema had hit him before gave Idrilla an idea of where to look and there was already hints on a shiner. At least that had been cathartic… but now they were going to face consequences. Just the fact that he came back on the same day was what surprised her. He must have been  **extremely** pissed off when he woke up to bother coming back with his cheek hurting as much as it had to be. Usually nobles retreated to lick their wounds for a few days and struck back at night… now, he was exceedingly bold and coming to break up a normally sacred ceremony in the light of day and brought a contingent of armed and armored guards! It was unprecedented.

 

Despite the impetuous nature of the intrusion, the Chantry mother immediately struck a conciliatory tone. “Milord…”

 

Idrilla gritted her teeth at the idea that she’d still refer to him by any kind of title.  _ The Chantry could condemn all of this kind of behavior, but they don’t _ , she thought bitterly.

 

“This is… an unexpected surprise…” the lady of the Chantry continued.

 

“Sorry to interrupt, Mother,” Vaughn began, chuckling. He grinned broadly as he stepped up onto the dais and continued to speak. “But I’m having a party,” he paused to grasp Shianni’s chin in his hand. She pulled back and he only smiled at her defiance. “And we’re  **dreadfully** short of female guests.” He let out a deep rumble of a laugh at that, pausing again to stand defiantly in front of the Chantry mother.

 

Idrilla could smell the brandy and wine coming off him and his two noble pals before they even got up on the platform and scrunched her nose in distaste. Naema was all but growling and pushed Nelaros back behind her in what normally would have been seen as shocking reversal of roles but considering the commotion it was entirely missed. Soris had already done the same to Valora and the cousins created a kind of body shield around their partners-to-be.

 

“Milord! This is a  **wedding** !” the Chantry mother chastised him, apparently finally horrified enough to speak out.

 

Vaughn barked out a laugh at that, raising his arms in mockery at her anger. His buddies seemed to take that as a sign they should slip in next to any female they desired. For now, that only included Shianni and Nola.

 

“If you want to dress up your pets and have tea parties, that’s your business,” the nobleman continued. He advanced on the Chantry mother and even grinned a bit as she shrunk down and back when he loomed over her. “But don’t pretend this is a proper wedding. These knife ears aren’t any better than the rabbits that spawned them.”

 

Idrilla glared at the elder as he retreated from the dais, shepherding the crowds away from the danger.  _ He’s just going to let them take us _ , she realized and it infuriated her. At the time that they needed him to stand up the most, he was fleeing. “So much for your speech about kin and kind!” she spat at him. “You won’t even defend us, Elder?!”

 

Valendrian stopped, faced her and stood defiant. “Actions have consequences,” he replied curtly. While quite a few members of the crowd murmured their disagreement, they did not step up against the armed and armored guards. How could they? No one had been prepared to fight at this ceremony; it was supposed to be a day of happiness and feasting!

 

Idrilla could hear Nola, Melle and Shianni gasping or growling at the elder’s response to her attempt to guilt the elder into standing up for them. Valora and Naema were, understandably, too wrapped up in Vaughn’s closeness to either hear or care for the moment.

 

“At least your oldest member has some Maker-damned sense!” Vaughn barked, the words melting into drunken laughter. “Father must have beaten it into his skull properly. The rest of you should learn from his example.”

 

“Milord,  **please** —” the Chantry mother attempted one last time in her practiced polite tone. It only earned her a rough shove as Vaughn returned his attention to his actual reason for being there.

 

“Now, we’re here for a good time, aren’t we boys?” Vaughn asked, though one might have expected it to be a rhetorical question by this point.

 

The noble with dark brown hair and carefully maintained stubble laughed, grasping Elle and Nola by their shoulders. “Just a good time with the ladies, that’s all!” he replied to his friend’s invitation. Both of the girls made no secret of their disgust, but were clearly too frightened to actually fight back.

 

The redhead that had attempted to corner Idrilla earlier laughed so sloppily that it was clear he was very drunk. He was quick to wrap his arms around Shianni’s shoulders, pulling her back against him.

 

“Get off me you stuffed shirt son of a—!” she snapped.

 

“Now, now…” he cooed, though his grip tightened and she gasped as her windpipe was suddenly restricted. “No need for that, ratty girl…”

 

“Let’s have…” Vaughn began, looking around the dais. “Those two you’ve got wrapped up, Braden,” he confirmed, nodding to the dark haired man. Braden attempted to push his face into Nola’s for a kiss at the invitation from his friend and she turned away before pushing at his chest. Braden shoved her over to a guard who immediately grasped her wrists and jerked them behind her back.

 

“The smart mouthed girl from earlier,” the arl’s son continued, eyes glittering as he caught Idrilla’s. She growled at him and he just laughed again. “Oh, I really will enjoy you…” he murmured, removing his gaze only to gesture to two guards to restrain her.

 

Idrilla attempted to force her way past the armored men, only to be tripped on her way down the stairs. She could hear Naema call out for her from the dais, but had no opportunity to acknowledge it. A booted foot shoved its way between her shoulder blades the moment she landed as her face was forced into the dirt. “Be a good girl,” a man she didn’t recognize whisper viciously in her ear. “Or I’ll have to be even rougher with you.”

 

“And I do say the brides will make for the best party guests of all,” Vaughn mused, grinning at Valora and Naema. “Why not celebrate your big day properly, ladies? We’ll make sure you leave stuffed.”

 

“Fuck you, shem!” Naema rumbled, glancing at the guards that had gathered closeby. “I’ll make sure to cut your tiny dick off first!” She spit in his face the moment she felt a hand at her shoulder and wheeled on the guards.

 

Nelaros attempted to help, grasping a guard’s spare knife at their back in their belt. “You villans!” he snarled. He aimed for the closest guard’s neck, but another member grasped his wrist and pulled it straight back. The sharp movement caused him to drop the knife with a pained gasp and, while he did still struggle and curse, he quickly found himself subdued in a similar manner to Idrilla. Except, in his case, the guard bashed his head into the dais until he stopped moving.

 

“Nelaros!” Idrilla renewed her struggle against the two guards holding her even though her rational mind knew it was futile. “You pieces of shit! Every one of you deserves to be fed to Darkspawn!”

 

“Oi!” One of her captors snapped, “that’s enough of that.” He grasped her around the neck with his arm and squeezed, not letting up until she stopped struggling and fell into the dirt.

 

His fellow guard clicked his tongue in distaste. “You’d better be the one to carry her then, Jameson,” he said, quirking a brow. The offender rolled his eyes but knelt down to drag Idrilla’s form up by her rope-bound hands so she wouldn’t suffocate in the dirt.

 

Naema had brought two guards to their knees and kicked one off the dais entirely, but the two that had been attending to Nelaros and Soris’s incapacitation headed in from a direction she wasn’t paying attention and she soon found herself treated just as her sister had been with her face picking up splinters from the wooden platform.

 

Vaughn held up a hand when a guard moved to ‘encourage’ her windpipe closed and leaned in to speak to her again. “Struggle all you like, whore. Each of your friends will break, and I’ll toss them back in with you to see their faces before I come for you.” He traced a finger along her ear, then her jaw and down her neck until he could go no farther from the wedding dress she was in. Had she not been restrained with a hand on her head from both guards she would have at least attempted to bite his finger off. As it was, she growled at him and made no secret of the fact that she was itching to tear him to pieces. “You. **Will**. Break,” he emphasized each syllable with dark intent. “Worms don’t get to pretend to be people. You’ll learn your place and you’ll like it.”

 

“Fuck. You. **_Shemlen_ **.” Naema echoed his dark emphasis on every syllable.

 

Vaughn simply smirked at her and a flicker of his eyes he gave the order to one of the guards. Even as she lost her vision, Naema was still struggling to reach for the slowly retreating form that had threatened her and hurt her friends.


End file.
